


so magic probably isn't real (but you're here, so I guess we'll have to see about that)

by beepbedeep



Category: Let It Snow (Movie)
Genre: F/F, First work for this fandom, I like this movie a Lot, a lot a lot, ahhhhhh, i think, whooooooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beepbedeep/pseuds/beepbedeep
Summary: In fact, she’s so distracted by the thought of going home to wallow in the could-have-beens of Kerry (alone, because her parents are away at a distant relative’s wedding and Addie canceled their plans to hang out with Jeb, but it’s ok because Dorrie is something of a professional at getting over girls she’s too awkward to talk to) that she almost doesn’t hear Kerry’s tentative (tentative, which is a new look on this girl who seems to be made almost entirely of confidence and joy), “I’m free tonight though.”
Relationships: Dorrie/Kerry
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	so magic probably isn't real (but you're here, so I guess we'll have to see about that)

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS MY WHOLE SOUL!!!! IT TOOK A WHILE!!! TELL ME IF IT MAKES SENSE!!!!

They meet on a Thursday morning. Whenever she thinks about it, Dorrie will swear up and down that it was sunny, with singing birds and a sense of anticipation in the air, but as Addie never fails to remind her (because what is a best friend for if not to keep you honest) the only thing stunning about that particular Tuesday was how extremely run of the mill it was. A few weeks before Christmas is still too far away from winter break to be exciting, with enough time before finals that school is only normal-crazy-20-chapter-questions-and-the-reading-is-going-to-take-hours-but-it’s-ok-I-have-until-Sunday-stressful and not oh-my-god-I-need-to-pass-this-class-there’s-a-test-that’s-worth-30%-of-my-grade-shit-I-haven’t-studied-stressful and the weather is firmly grey and drippy, with only the faintest hint of snow on the edge of a very deep breath. Average. Cookie-cutter. (except that no day is the same, not really, and every morning really could be the beginning of the rest of your life, so maybe Dorrie isn’t so off in her slightly embellished memory) 

And, a little before school starts on the morning of the second day of the thirteenth week of senior year, when Dorrie’s sitting on a bench in a quiet(ish) hallway that really only leads to the gym and frowning at her AP chem homework (which is mostly done, but due in fifteen minutes), a crowd of girls wearing basically the same outfit (leggings/sweatpants, matching white tank tops and black jackets with the school’s logo clearly emblazoned) rush by. They’re chattering a million miles a minute, all generally about the same topic but split into smaller pairs and trios each discussing the particulars of what sounds like a rival dance team’s performance the previous weekend. 

Dorrie doesn’t look up, smiling briefly at the familiar sense of joyful teenage girl-ness that wafts off of the group, along with what smells like seventeen different combinations of shampoo, perfume, deodorant and the slight undercurrent of sweat that comes from an intense practice which no quick locker room shower can really get rid of. (it’s a smell that reminds her of ice skating, with flushed cheeks and laughter that can’t be contained.) 

It’s still early (Dorrie doesn’t know how anyone can think the dance team girls aren’t athletes – they get to school two hours early multiple times a week for the extra practice time) and she hears three girls say they want to go on a coffee run at the exact same time. The last few girls emerge from the locker room, still putting their hair up or slipping on a scarf, and the group moves on, a single unit of strong calves, good balance, and immaculate highlighter, when one girl exits the fray, calling out that she’ll “be at Sadie’s car in a sec!” and flings herself on the bench next to Dorrie. It’s only when her weight makes contact with the wood, bouncing everything slightly, that Dorrie looks up, to make sure that her notes haven’t been so spread out that the other girl is left with only the corner to sit on. 

For a minute, it’s still like any other day, as Dorrie collects some of the less necessary papers and the stray Dance Team Girl bends to tie one of her shoes, placing the other on the floor near her backpack (this last piece of school-day prep is evidently the reason for her stop at the bench) (dance team girl’s socks, she notices, have a set of tiny alpacas on them). Then (this is the part where Dorrie will recall birds singing), Dance Girl looks up from the floor, Dorrie finishes stuffing her papers back into the binder where they belong, and their two sets of eyes meet. She’s beautiful. And yeah, Dorrie thinks most of the girls she meets are beautiful, because girls are undeniably lovely and she might be somewhat of a useless lesbian, but this one, who Dorrie vaguely recognizes from assemblies or maybe passing in the hall a few times a year, (because she loves this town but it is also three people big and everyone is born knowing everyone else, so this isn’t really where they meet, but more of a moment they’ve been leading up to for their whole lives) has that familiar ice skating flush on her cheeks and damp hair that she’s combing through with one hand as she goes to pick up her second shoe with the other, and the most gorgeous brown eyes that Dorrie feels herself falling in to, and Dorrie would write this off as just another pretty girl who is probably kind and funny and would be good friend except that she already has a whole dance team full of friends, but as she feels her breath catch for a moment, she sees the other girl’s chest do the same thing, and when their faces break into mirroring smiles, all thoughts of the lab she has in less than ten minutes fly out of her head. 

Dorrie thinks her name might be Kira or Carly but she’s too distracted by the way her head tilts gently to the left to form a more coherent thought. Kayla(?) blushes even brighter, and Dorrie realizes that she’s staring. She moves to turn her head away, but suddenly Dance Girl (Katy?) opens her mouth and a through a jumble of words Dorrie thinks she hears something like “himyname’sKerry”. Her confusion must be evident because the girl, (Kerry, of course) clamps her lips shut, and takes the kind of breath that Dorrie’s seen on Olympic athletes right before the timer starts and they dive off a cliff. 

Kerry shakes her head slightly, puts her shoe back on the ground, and smiles again, she starts to say something like, “Hi. My name’s Kerry.” but Dorrie blurts out “don’tworryIheardyouIhavegoodhearingit’sgenetic” before she can finish the second sentence and they both stare at each other again, in a silence that would be uncomfortable, except for the part where they both burst out laughing and Kerry’s laugh is so warm and happy that Dorrie forgets that this interaction probably should be awkward so when their snickering is under control she lightly taps Kerry’s knee instead. 

“You go.” 

Kerry beams. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

“Who do you have?”

“What?” 

Kerry grins, teasingly, and Dorrie decides that’s her favorite expression so far. She motions towards Dorrie’s still open textbook, “For chem.” 

“Oh! Ms. Sepulvida” 

Kerry nods approvingly, “I had a class with her last year! She’s the only reason I actually like the periodic table.” 

“And she’s reaaaaally into-“

“Dinosaurs! Her brontosaurs stickers are my favorite.” 

Dorrie wants to tell her about when the pterodactyl that Ms. S mounted on the ceiling accidentally fell on Addie’s head, and that she thinks Kerry smells like cinnamon and also every single thing that’s ever happened to her, because Dorrie doesn’t ever want this conversation to end, when one of the dance team girls who’s tall with lots of curly brown hair bursts back in, “Kerry! We’re waiting! Sadie needs to be back in time for first period and I need at least three expresso shots and maybe a yerba mate if I’m gonna get through school and practice tonight.” 

Kerry looks confused for a second, like she forgot about her friends in the parking lot, then winces. “Sorry! Coming!” 

She wrinkles her face apologetically at Dorrie (who forgets how to breathe for a second) and then somehow frowns at her own scalp. “Remind me to tell Julia that I need my hairdryer back, I swear my hair literally froze when I walked outside last night.” 

She shakes her head in an unsuccessful effort to dispel the last of the water (sending even more cinnamon into Dorrie’s nose) and then faux-grumpily (with a wink at Dorrie which seems like an old-man move, but is maybe the most attractive thing Dorrie’s ever seen in her life) goes to put on her other shoe. As she ties the laces, Dorrie finds herself rummaging through her backpack and pulling out a fuzzy grey hat. When she holds it out to Kerry, the other girl smiles, understanding instantly. “Really? You won’t need it?” 

“I work inside. Besides, you’ll get it back to me.” (Now it’s Dorrie’s turn to blush, her face feels like it could melt off at any moment, but she also can’t bring herself to regret anything) 

Kerry winks, again (Dorrie’s heart skips a beat, again) and takes the hat pulling it firmly over her ears and so far down that her eyes are fully covered. Dorrie snorts, and Kerry grins (again! Kerry’s still smiling because of Dorrie and she’s not really sure why but she would like to keep it up). Tall Dance Team Girl rolls her eyes (fondly) and pulls Kerry to her feet. “They literally will leave without us, and you’re terrible at driving on ice. Let’s PLEASE go!” 

The pair of girls speed away, Tall Dance Girl firmly towing Kerry behind her, but before they get too far Kerry twists around and waves, “I’ll stop by Sepulvida’s room tomorrow! Not a hat thief!” 

She bobs her head a final time, wiggling the pompom on the top of her head, and Dorrie is left laughing as the sent of cinnamon dissipates. She can’t wait for tomorrow. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning Dorrie’s hovering on the edge of exhausted – her shift last night was surprisingly busy and she had to finish a lab report, the same lab report that she’s just dropped on Ms. S’s desk before heading to lunch. Yawning, (even though she’s almost halfway through her classes for the day), she head out into the hallway when a clear and surprisingly familiar voice rings out, “Wait up! Hat!” 

The same aura of cinnamon wafts towards her as Kerry appears at her side, slightly breathless from her efforts to catch up. “Sorry, I got stuck behind Mimi’s boyfriend – Mimi, you remember her from yesterday? - because he had one of her books in his backpack and I needed to borrow her Chapstick because mine ran out a few days ago and I keep forgetting to put more in my bag which sucks because everything is so cold and dry right now but I wrote myself a reminder (at this she proudly shows Dorrie her palm which has ‘YOUR FACE WILL TURN INTO A RAISIN’ scrawled across the bottom) and then Tyler-Mimi’s-boyfriend like, had to make out with her? So I had to find the Chapstick because she was busy (Kerry pauses to perform an eyebrow wiggle that is probably meant to be suggestive but Dorrie mostly thinks it’s adorable) and I love that girl but she has never organized anything in her backpack, it’s chaos in there! Anyway, I was going to catch you a little earlier and then I was worried that I’d miss you and I’m not sure where any of your other classes are so I ran but then Jeffry Bryant (a huff) wasn’t looking where he was going so I accidently ran into him and I felt so bad but I helped him pick his stuff back up and that took a few minutes because he has this really cool set of pens but they got scattered everywhere and by then I knew you’d gotten out of class like 5 minutes ago and I just, (she pauses a final time, sucking in a huge breath and the rapid fire patter of speech slows, as if she isn’t sure how to form her next set of words) . . . I, like, really wanted to see you again.” 

Dorrie officially has a crush on this girl, with her endless strings of words and unstoppable enthusiasm. She doesn’t know how exactly to say what she wants to, something like _can we hang out forever_ or _tell me everything that’s happened to you_ or _what’s your favorite animal because I want to get it tattooed on my body_ so she settles for smiling, “You came back.” 

Kerry looks surprised, “Of course I did! Did you think I wouldn’t?” “No! You just . . . have other friends?” 

Dorrie blushes – she’s not doing a particularly good job of explaining how the dance team seems like a complete unit, like none of them seem to need anything from the outside world – but Kerry (once again, so there’s a growing chance that this girl is psychic) bounces like she understands. “We can be friends too! Besides, I have your hat.” 

Kerry holds out her hand and Dorrie sees the hat clutched in it, she’s about to reach for it when Kerry neatly pops up on her toes and slides it onto Dorrie’s head. It’s a move that should be awkward, shouldn’t make Dorrie’s entire body fill with butterflies, but the fluttering has already made its way up to her stomach and when Kerry leans over again to flip Dorrie’s hair out of her eyes she finds herself blurting out, “What are you doing right now?” 

“Like, for lunch?” 

“Yeah! Because I’m not doing anything and-“ 

Kerry sighs and looks so genuinely distressed that Dorrie wants to solve every problem she’s ever had. “It’s actually my sister’s birthday today? And because she’s like, born in December we always make a really big deal out of it, so it doesn’t get lost in all the Christmas prep, if that makes sense? So I promised to take her and her friends anywhere but here for lunch. (she gives Dorrie a confidential look) Have you ever driven with 5 screaming freshmen in the back seat? I might die.” 

“My best friend likes to play music from her phone and flip through as many radio stations as possible at the same time. She doesn’t really drive us anymore.” 

Kerry giggles and Dorrie can feel herself laughing too, although her attention is mostly taken up by the way Kerry’s eyes widen when she’s trying to make a point. Maybe this is it then, maybe this is the last conversation she and Kerry are ever going to have – if they’ve gone the past eleven and a half years without really talking to each other than finishing up the rest of senior year without any more interaction seems probable. Dorrie isn’t lonely, she has her coworkers and Addie and parents, but she’s surprised at how sad the thought of never hearing Kerry’s ninety-mile-an-hour way of speaking again. 

In fact, she’s so distracted by the thought of going home to wallow in the could-have-beens of Kerry (alone, because her parents are away at a distant relative’s wedding and Addie canceled their plans to hang out with Jeb, but it’s ok because Dorrie is something of a professional at getting over girls she’s too awkward to talk to) that she almost doesn’t hear Kerry’s tentative ( _tentative_ , which is a new look on this girl who seems to be made almost entirely of confidence and joy), “I’m free tonight though.” 

Dorrie looks up, “Tonight?” 

Kerry scrunches her face (a look Dorrie recognizes from yesterday and somehow finds even more stunning the second time around) and shakes her head, as if to dispel the idea, “Like, late. After-birthday-extravaganza type late. You probably have plans, and we have school tomorrow, I shouldn’t have said anything. (she deflates a little) I just, do want to see you.” 

“Actually, I’m not doing anything.” 

“Really?” 

“Really! Just work, but I’ll be done with that at 8.” 

“You work at the Waffle Town, right?” 

Dorrie can feel warmth spreading from her ribcage down to the tips of her fingers, “Yeah, how’d you-“ 

Kerry jumps, “I didn’t like, do something creepy!” 

Dorrie laughs, “So . . .?” 

Kerry blushes and clamps her hands over her face, a muffled “I just mentioned the really cute girl with a pig-shaped pencil case I met to Sadie yesterday, and she said you were her neighbor? And that you work at Waffle Town.” 

“Really cute?” 

Kerry emerges from her self-imposed hiding place and cocks her head, grinning, “Yup. Gigi – my sister – is having a sleepover tonight so I’ll probably be able to escape before it’s too late . . . I could meet you at the end of your shift?” 

Dorrie grins again, it feels like if she smiles any wider her face might split in half (which would be SO embarrassing, and also if her face falls off kissing Kerry is going to be way harder), “That sounds totally perfect!” 

“Yay! I’ll be there.” Kerry drops her backpack to the ground and rummages around for a minute, coming up with a plastic container. She pulls the lid off and extracts a cupcake with a “G” written on it in pink sprinkles, “That’s not too squished, right?” 

“It looks perfect.” (like you, Dorrie thinks). 

Kerry winks at her, still undeniably hot, and pulls her bag back on. “See you tonight!” 

She spins once, in a way that Dorrie maybe thinks she’s seen in her cousin’s obligatory dance recitals, but when Kerry does it, Dorrie wants to applaud, give her a standing ovation. Balancing the cupcake carefully in one hand, Kerry reaches up a final time to adjust Dorrie’s hat, catches her eye, and smirks, before taking off down the hall at breakneck speed. She almost barrels directly into Angie – Dorrie’s lab partner who is blond and nice and unwilling to admit that she’s in love with her best friend. Dorrie giggles as Kerry apologizes, Angie waves it off saying that Kerry didn’t even touch her, Kerry hears Dorrie’s snickering, whips around, and calls out, “See! I promise I won’t be late.” 

She flashes one more gleaming smile down the hall, and sets off towards her sister, a short girl with bright pink hair surrounded by a cluster of friends who begin to call her name when she rounds the corner. Angie gives Dorrie a conspiratorial glance, and nods her approval, “Kerry’s cute.” 

“Oh-“ Dorrie splutters something that isn’t really in a recognizable language and Angie laughs. 

“Well no pressure! But it is almost Christmas! December is basically made for falling in love.” 

“I don’t see you dashing off with a handsome prince.” 

Angie jokingly flips her hair, “I’m all about bucking stereotypes,” 

“Oh, SURE-“ 

Tobin appears at Angie’s side in that magical way he does, as if her presence summons him into existence and pokes her shoulder, “Ready?” 

“Yup!” 

Angie gives Dorrie a last sympathetic look, “Don’t psych yourself out, ok? You’re awesome! Really.” 

Dorrie waves as Tobin and “The Duke” disappear down the hall, grateful for Angie’s kindness and their ridiculous sexual tension distracting her, if only for a moment. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

When Kerry blows into the Waffle Town’s doors, she brings a sheet of freezing rain and the anticipated smell of cinnamon with her. Dorrie almost doesn’t look up, the door’s been banging open like that at ten minute intervals all evening, bringing in drippy, gloomy customers who would clearly rather be at home than scarfing down quick Waffle-Town-level food before heading back out into the rainy night for whatever’s next on their list. A mom with three little kids and a large set of shopping bags has set up in one of the corner booths and a frantic babble has been emanating from their table for half an hour as she helps three small people cut up their food, there’s holiday music softly playing over the speakers, and everyone else is eating quietly. 

The vibe isn’t necessarily happy, but it’s one of the nights that actually makes Dorrie really happy to work here, to provide a nice little corner of the world where harried people can come in and get warm before heading back out into town. She’s just topped off three different cups of coffee, redirected one of the little kids back to her mom’s table, and settled back down to finish her history reading, when she hears the door get politely shut, instead of smashing closed like it does when left to its own devices, and she looks up into a cheerful, bundled up face. 

Kerry waves, or tries to in her comically large gloves, and shakes herself like a wet dog. Dorrie opens her mouth to say hi, or maybe come up with some comment that’s hopefully charming and enduring about the weather or dogs or maybe just launch into a sonnet about the way Waffle Town’s admittedly half-assed lighting suddenly seems a thousand percent brighter now that she’s in the room, when Billy waves his hand in front of her face. She turns around, his normally annoyingly tranquil face is marked with visible concern. She’s about to ask him what’s wrong when he says, in a voice of deep apology, “Dorrie, I know you’re supposed to have the rest of tonight off, but my dog ate something really weird and I need to take him to the vet like, yesterday and-“ 

She cuts him off, nodding, “I can totally stay until ten and shut down, don’t worry. Go take care of Lillian and tell her that we love her!” 

Billy collapses in obvious gratitude and takes off out the front door, barely pausing to throw his jacket on. 

“Is everything ok?” Kerry’s bright voice makes something in Dorrie’s stomach flip over and she turns back to the counter where Kerry has curled up on one of the stools at the counter, with her soaked coat, gloves, and scarf draped over the chair next to hers. Her nose is red and she has a few pieces of confetti in her hair. 

Dorrie tentatively reaches over and pulls a piece out of the tangled black strands, “That’s my manager, his dog is sick? She’ll be totally fine! He loves her SO much, but.” 

Dorrie tenses and Kerry leans across the counter, close enough that Dorrie can see glitter flecked across her cheeks. “Dorrie! What? You’re talking to a proud survivor of never-have-I-ever where my parents decided they wanted to play!” 

“OH, so the party’s going _great_.” 

“All I can say is that you might be my hero for giving me an out. Come on, what?” 

“I- I kinda promised that I’d stay here until ten to close up. And you came all the way out here for me-“ 

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” 

“No!! But no one wants to hang out at the Waffle Town unless they really want some lukewarm baked goods-“ 

“Hey! I like it here.” 

“Really?” 

Kerry leans even farther across the counter, close enough that Dorrie can almost feel her breath and nods, firmly. “ _Really_. You can do all your server-y things and ALSO talk to me, because I just started to get warm again and there is NO way I’m going back out there without a lot of hot chocolate first.” 

Dorrie giggles, Kerry’s warmth is spreading through her body again, and she holds out her hand, “That’s definitely something I can help you with! Care for a grand tour?” 

Kerry nods vigorously and slides off the stool, skipping around to the other side of the counter, “Lead the way!” 

Her fingers are cold, but her skin is soft, and Dorrie prepares to give the most interesting tour of a slightly musty industrial kitchen known to humanity, ending at the hot chocolate, obviously. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They don’t leave Waffle House until eleven. A few more people cycle in after Billy leaves, but things get quiet pretty quickly, and after Dorrie scoops up the runway toddler one more time, the (very nice) family leaves, taking most of the pep with them. That is, of course, for Kerry. 

Maybe December is making Dorrie think in terms of specifically festive metaphors, but she can’t help comparing the shiny, laughing girl with a drop of hot chocolate on her nose to the angel on the top of a Christmas tree. She joins Dorrie in wiping up the tables when everyone has left (which is only about nine, because by then it’s been dark for basically five hours and no one really wants to leave their houses) and their combined laugher fills the building, brightening up the dusty corners and drowning out the gusts of wind. They talk for longer than Dorrie would have thought possible, the hint of awkwardness in their first two interactions quickly fades, and all she can think about is how much _fun_ it is to talk to Kerry. 

They like a lot of the same things, and worry about the same things, and have a weird amount of stuff in common, but also think about it all in really different ways so talking to her is incredibly interesting. Kerry’s halfway through an impassioned rant pulling from seventeen different YouTube analyses and twenty-five highly specific tumblr posts about book vs. movie Hermione when she pauses, giving Dorrie a faux-specific look, complete with a single raised eyebrow. “What?” 

Dorrie grins and shakes her head, “Nothing, keep going!” 

Kerry narrows her eyes, and something behind them shifts, reawakening the flip of Dorrie’s stomach. (They’re back in the kitchen, Dorrie’s just finished sweeping and Kerry’s sitting on the counter, which maybe isn’t strictly good from a food-safety standpoint, but worse stuff has been on this counter, Dorrie’s been an eyewitness to most of it.) “You’re staring.” 

Dorrie blushes and steps back, moving to put the broom away, but Kerry sets her cup down and, with surprisingly fast reflexes, laces her fingers through Dorrie’s. Her eyes are sparkling now, with something new, and Dorrie wants to memorize how she looks right now, in the soft glow of the kitchen lights. Kerry’s hair looks impossibly soft and her lips are slightly shiny. Her voice is soft, not a whisper but not for anyone else’s ears when she says, slowly, “I didn’t mean you should stop.” 

There’s a beat, where neither girl moves and then Kerry wrinkles her nose, “Sorry, that seemed cooler in my head? If you have other stuff to do you should totally stop, like do whatever you want! Consent! I think Gigi’s forced me to watch too many of her fanvids, and-“ 

Kerry would keep going, Dorrie has yet to see her speechless, but her train of thought is halted by Dorrie’s lips on hers. She freezes for a moment in surprise, then wraps her arms around Dorrie’s neck and slots their lips together, bringing their bodies even closer. After a moment, they part. Kerry’s mouth opens and closes, not forming any words. Aha. Speechless. Dorrie feels a smile appear on her face and leans back in, rescuing Kerry from her wordlessness. The cinnamon and chocolate blend together in Dorrie’s senses, Kerry’s hair is just as soft as it looks, and when a Stuart Bale song starts playing, it almost feels like a dream.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“So, you’re gay, right?” 

They make out for at least half an hour like that, Kerry halfway on the counter, Dorrie’s fingers skimming under her shirt, Kerry’s tracing over Dorrie’s shoulders and then again outside the broom closet, where Kerry lets Dorrie shove the broom in a suitable place before pressing her against the wall. Finally, they break apart because neither girl has taken a full breath in at least forty-five minutes, and the empty Waffle Town starts to get a little foreboding and shadowy after ten-thirty. Dorrie took the bus earlier, so they both get into Kerry’s car after collecting all their textbooks, looking for a “lucky pen” in multiple places, and gingerly picking up the still-damp clothes Kerry had shed after coming in from the rain earlier. 

They’re both settled in the car before they realize they don’t have any plans of where to go next, but Kerry isn’t too excited about heading back to “sleepover central” yet, and Dorrie’s house is empty, so that’s where they end up. It’s once they’re on the road that Dorrie pokes Kerry’s side as she asks her question. They giggle for a minute, and Kerry nods, “Yeah! It’s still kinda new – I like boys too so for a while I just didn’t think about it, but.” 

They smile at each other and Dorrie hears the history, the doubt, the past edge of panic, a newer sense of assuredness, budding joy and relief, understands it because she’s felt all those things too. “My mom kind of knew before I did, she kept trying to lead me up to it, for at least a year and when I figured out that she knew it was really nice, because then I knew that she wasn’t going to treat me any differently, you know? Like, she’s always going to love me no matter what, but I was kinda scared of her image of me changing, so it was nice to understand that it wouldn’t."

Kerry nods, “My mom thought I was doing intense drugs or something, because I would jump every time she asked me a question, but then when I finally got up the nerve to tell her, she hugged me and whispered that she was glad I hadn’t tried molly.” 

The rest of the car ride is spent as Kerry details her mom’s reaction, the awkwardness that was funny in hindsight leading up to their conversation, and when she breaks off in the middle of a sentence once, face drawn and eyes shining with what look like tears, Dorrie doesn’t push her. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

They pull up outside of Dorrie’s house, it’s late enough that most of the neighbor’s windows are dark, or only a few muted lights shine, but almost every yard is light up with an array of Christmas lights ( _Christmas lights, Kerry’s personality is like Christmas lights_ ) and they whisper and giggle their way up to the front door, where Kerry wraps her arms around Dorrie’s waist and pokes her stomach to distract her from opening the door, until they both get too cold and then the door is opened in seconds.

Bags are thrown on the floor, Dorrie changes out of her syrup-scented work clothes and into sweatpants and they end up stretched out on her bed (soooo, tell me about the pig thing?) as Kerry finishes the second half of her Hermione oration. They kiss (lots) more, until Dorrie’s cheeks are flushed and Kerry’s hair has ten times the snarls it started with. In between, they talk about more things than Dorrie would have thought possible, and just like earlier in Waffle Town, the conversation flows regardless of what they’re talking about. 

Eventually, in between a thought about the High School Musical reboot and a list of cool things about horses, Dorrie closes her eyes, and Kerry smiles. (Dorrie can _hear_ her smile, even without looking, but maybe that has more to do with this new familiarity with Kerry’s mouth than any potential superpowers.) “It’s late.” 

“What? No it’s not!” 

Kerry laughs and sticks her head in the crook of Dorrie’s shoulder. “It’s 4:30. I know we don’t have school tomorrow, but maybe going home would be a good idea, I don’t want Gigi to have to cover for me when my parents wake up.” 

Dorrie sighs and sits up, “And you have competitions all next week! Are you safe to drive?” 

As they make their way to the front door Kerry shakes herself, visibly waking up a little.” “Totally! It’s not cold enough for ice, and my house is only a few minutes away.” She pauses, “Today was . . . really nice.” 

A truthful kind of teasing makes its way into her voice, “I like you.” 

Dorrie pulls her away from the door and kisses her a final time, gently, with what hopefully feels like a promise. She watches as Kerry drives away, then heads back inside, for once thanking the fact that the sun won’t rise for at least a few more hours, because she is REALLY supposed to get breakfast with Addie in about four hours, and now that Kerry’s shine has left the room, her whole body feels heavy and exhausted. As she crawls into bed, burrowing under sheets that still smell a little like the other girl, she lets the memories of their thousand conversations from the past few hours lull her to sleep. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It’s only the next morning (or next afternoon, really, because staying up till five is not conducive to any kind of actual sleep-getting and Dorrie can’t really open her eyes until one pm) when she goes to send Kerry some kind of “Are you alive?” text that Dorrie realizes she doesn’t actually have her number. They’d been so caught up in talking about everything that they hadn’t stopped to do the mundane thing of making sure they can communicate in the future. In fact, if not for the exhaustion that still ripples throughout her, Dorrie would wonder if last night had just been a dream – inspired by loneliness and a glimpse of a cute girl. 

(but her room smells like Kerry, there’s a long black hair on the couch that couldn’t come from anyone in her family, and a lone glove that Kerry evidently forgot to retrieve from the banister where it was drying.) 

All she really wants to do is spend the day texting the other girl, asking a million more questions about her life and her thoughts on Hogwarts houses and how her sister’s party went and _doyouwanttohangoutagain_ , but Monday is only a day and a half away, so instead she goes back to bed, mutters some kind of greeting at her parents when they get back, and showers in time to meet Addie for a study session before dinner. Sunday is a similar mix of sleeping, parents, friends, and homework (closing Waffle House on Friday somehow earned her the whole weekend off) and the whole time Kerry is on the undercurrent of her thoughts, making Dorrie look forwards to Monday for the first time since 4th grade. 

Of course on Monday it turns out that the dance team’s out for a week of competitions, but Kerry follows her on Instagram so Dorrie spends the week memorizing her feed (at first, adorably young, by the end sparkling and gorgeous, there’s a picture of Kerry starfishes out on a gym mat clearly caught mid-laughter that Dorrie may or may not wallpaper the inside of her brain with) and trying to figure out what the perfect text to send to a girl-you-met-a-couple-times-and-kissed-a-lot-which-was-really-nice-but-haven’t-seen-since-you-bacailly-poured-your-hearts-out-to-each-other-but-in-a-nice-way-where-you-both-felt-better-after. 

The week passes, and the next one does too, with Dorrie unable to decide on the perfect text, the dance team’s only appearances being to rush by in a cackling cluster across the hall from wherever Dorrie is, so she just gets a glimpse of black hair and flash of a familiar laugh as they disappear around the corner. Once she almost runs into Kerry’s sister, who apologize profusely, which only makes Dorrie smile because apparently running around semi-blindly is a family trait. She gives Gigi the leftover glove and asks if she could return it to Kerry who nods enthusiastically and bounds away. That’s it, mostly. She’s left wishing she’d kept the glove a little longer, and once Keon reports a short girl with dark hair stopping by WT and asking for her, but other than that life just kind of goes on, which almost doesn’t seem possible, because after meeting Kerry, Dorrie can’t imagine things ever being normal again, but there are no magical light displays in the sky and animals don’t start talking like she’s a Disney princess, but Addie’s relationship with Jeb IS souring (unsurprising, because Jeb has been kind of a dick since middle school) so they spend a lot of time talking about that, and Christmas IS coming, so Dorrie spends her time watching an excessive amount of holiday movies with her mom and figuring out the logistics of getting Addie the most perfect, boyfriend-distracting gift of all time. 

Things are fairly standard and sometimes she forgets that the world doesn’t look new to everyone else, that they can’t all see the new colors in leaves or feel the first snow of the year more gently, but her only her world was tilted (for the better) by Kerry’s new presence in it, so she agonizes over what text to send and reorganizes her pig figurines and tries to be ok with that night maybe just being a one off, except where that would maybe break her heart. She thinks about Angie’s gentle “Christmas magic” sarcasm and dreams of Kerry’s eyes, lit up as she talks about dancing. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Christmas eve sneaks up on cat feet, here before Dorrie has time to turn around. (turns out that dreaming about fantasy dates with a cute girl and working on a “surprise” research paper is a quick way to pass the time) Addie’s clinginess is rearing its head, which Dorrie doesn’t mind because you love your best friend, warts and all, but she doesn’t think that Jeb is as patient, so when she wakes up on the morning of the twenty-fourth, a thick layer of snow blanketing the ground, (like frosting! Kerry said that snow reminded her of frosting) and approximately seventeen messages from Addie freaking out about a girl named Madison making her phone buzz itself onto the floor, Dorrie decides to show her the Best Christmas Present Ever a day early. A

ddie is at her house before ten minutes are up, groaning about Jeb and debate and deftly scrolling through his Instagram history while twisting a pig slinky from a fair the past summer in her other hand. Dorrie makes sympathetic noises in all the right places, and after about an hour of best-friend-hanging-out/relationship-panic-spiral (but she complains about her lack of a perfect/cool message to send Kerry, so it’s fair). 

But, Addie on the attention war-path cannot ever really be distracted for very long, and in the car she spits something out about Dorrie not understanding because she’s not in a relationship, which, like, FINE, it’s true and Dorrie would normally shrug it off without any real thought, but Addie _knows_ how much she’s thinking about Kerry, how paralyzed by indecision she is, so the barb stings a little more than it might usually, and what was supposed to be a nice pig meeting turns into Addie leaving her car in a huff and Dorrie accidentally snapping at Billy when he greets her with a merry, “Happy Christmas eve!” 

(but Billy isn’t one to hold a grudge and after she cleans something mysterious and sticky off the floor for him, they’re friends again.) Keon arrives in an even more intense huff than her, muttering about his parents ruining his party plans and something about DJ Tempest never talking to him again. By the time Billy’s talked him into having the party at WT instead, Dorrie just feels bad about how she treated Addie and is trying to figure out the right silly snapchat that will make them both feel better, when the door opens and the familiar cacophony of hungry teenage girls fills the room. 

Keon is at the front, so Dorrie doesn’t rush out to the counter, but when she gets out there a bolt of electricity ripples through her body, because she recognizes the matching jackets this particular group is wearing, and after a second of searching- there! Kerry’s laughing at something the girl next to her said, and Dorrie feels an unconscious smile spread across her face, mirroring Kerry’s. She’s in the middle of the table, crowded among her teammates and something familiar in Dorrie’s chest twitches at the way Kerry’s eyes shut as she cackles. Maybe snow really does make room for miracles. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The minute she walks up, something feels off. The table is full of smiling girls, looking at menus or their phones, but Kerry, who has been nothing but genuine and open to Dorrie before, looks . . . different. She seems closed off, like gravity’s pull is a little too strong or someone has snuffed out a fire behind her eyes. When they make eye contact, instead of lighting up the way she did on the bench, Kerry stiffens and leans away. 

But, Dorrie doesn’t know her THAT well, right? Maybe she’s reading too much into things, maybe Kerry slept weird so her neck hurts, there’s basically a thousand explanations for her weirdish behavior. So, she soldiers ahead, sure that everything will get better the minute she opens her mouth. It, of course, does not. Kerry greets her, but it’s quiet and stilted, nothing like the passionate, relaxed girl that made a pillow fort at two am because “the best secrets are shared in pillow forts”. 

Dorrie talks, not really realizing what she’s saying but going and going, trying her very best to push past the awkwardness – because of course things would be a little awkward the first time seeing someone in two weeks after you know a million secrets about each other but haven’t ever spent time together in the daylight. At this point she doesn’t really matter what comes out of her mouth as long as the Kerry who laughed for five minutes straight over a bad Lord of the Rings pun comes back out of hiding. 

Dorrie is searching, desperately, for some sign of familiarity, some indication that Kerry hasn’t started to hate her (not that Dorrie’s habitually insecure, but Kerry is wonderful and amazing and terrifying so she would very much like to get this right). She stands there, hoping that the horse-in-soap story will get some kind of smile, even a small you’re-ridiculous smirk, but Kerry shrinks back even more, and Dorrie sees something harden in the center of her eyes, in the set of her chin, the way her lips close with determination. When she opens her mouth her voice is icy, in that high school girl way that says “you’re nothing to me” without ever being clearly unkind. It’s a dismissal if she’s ever heard one, and Dorrie isn’t sure where she went wrong. 

Maybe this wasn’t Keon’s idea of “playing it cool” but Dorrie hasn’t been cool for any part of this and Kerry hasn’t minded before. She takes their order as something rings in her ears and retreats to the kitchen under the guise of making sure all their plates of bacon are being prepared, as the world goes blurry for a second under a potent blend of confusion, embarrassment, and disappointment. Dorrie has no claim to Kerry, no right to demand a certain kind of treatment, but she’s never clicked with someone in quite this way before, their edges seemed to match so perfectly, she thought Kerry liked her just as much as she likes Kerry, and this one-eighty has sent her reeling. (If nothing else, it becomes a little easier to sympathize with Addie. Liking someone sucks.) 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Dorrie asks Keon to bring the dance girls their food, begs him until he says yes so she’ll leave him alone (and agrees to take out the trash for a month). She serves the other few people in WT, but the snow and pending holiday mean that business is pretty quiet, aside from a few people who stop in to get out of the cold or use the bathroom. (Keon’s party might be kind of a bad idea?) Kerry’s eyes, shifting to the side, trying to look literally anywhere else than at her, burn in the back of her mind and Dorrie can’t focus on anything other than the fact that _she’s here, she’s so close_ , and _none of this is what Dorrie imagined_. 

She can’t stand still, it feels like there’s too much energy coursing through her veins, electricity with no where to go, and every time she hears Kerry’s laugh ringing out again, rising above the din of her friends, she either wants to cry or go scream at a wall. Usually this is when Dorrie texts Addie, maybe looking for advice but mostly looking to vent, because that’s what best friends do, but they’re still in a fight that she doesn’t have a brain cell free to figure out, because the heady scent of cinnamon is closing in on her, blocking out all other trains of thought. (the hurricane of feelings in her head, the sweet goopyness of a crush mixed with the confusing whir of denial is creating an impressive mess.) 

She’s definitely not watching the dance table out of the corner of her eye, she’s totally focused on other things, like the job she’s here to do, but when Kerry slides out of the booth (actually, she climbs over three of her friends, she and Dorrie accidentally make eye contact, and for a second Dorrie sees the girl she thinks she knows, before her expression glazes over again and Kerry resolutely turns her attention to the person-who-might-be-Sadie(?), stealing a waffle bite on her way out. She walks towards the counter and for a second (Dorrie almost has a heart attack in this second) it seems like she might be coming over to talk, like maybe she’ll wave her hand apologetically and wink and say that she has an evil twin bot everything’s ok now. 

Instead she turns, intentionally, towards the bathroom, hair swinging behind her, and Dorrie knows she shouldn’t follow, knows that this interaction probably won’t be any less terrible than the first, but knowing Kerry seems to involve constant surprise, so before Dorrie really knows what she’s doing, she follows Kerry around the corner and suddenly it’s just them in a small room with wintery light pouring in from the window. Just them. 

Dorrie feels gross, gross because none of today is going how she expected, gross because Kerry didn’t have a cruel bone in her body on their night, but the buzzing, fluttery electricity that envelopes them, tying both girls together, is back with a vengeance and if Dorrie doesn’t sink into a hole in the ground from shame she might float away from delight. Kerry’s eyes look different when she turns around, warmer and clearer like they did when Dorrie offered her hat. 

The shift from the dance team’s table, crowded with other girls, and here, with just them, is palpable, like each is placed on the opposite side of the grand canyon. She hasn’t taken a breath since pushing open the bathroom door, so she starts talking, hoping that something makes sense, that Kerry has some kind of explanation, that this crushing weight will lift off her lungs. She’s less than a sentence in, and actually felling pretty good, when Kerry’s face softens even more and she lunges forwards. 

Dorrie doesn’t have any time to process before they’re kissing. It’s just as good as it was last time, she tastes sweet (like maple syrup, Dorrie will realize later, which makes sense) and her hands are warm, her finger gentle across Dorrie’s shoulders. She wraps her hands around Kerry’s waist and tries to memorize the moment, but Kerry’s lips keep pulling her back into the present in a way that would be frustrating if it weren’t so perfect. This feels fake, kissing a ridiculously hot enigma of a girl in the Waffle Town bathroom, but it’s also the most real Dorrie’s felt in weeks. 

When Kerry pulls back, any remaining traces of removal or ice have completely left her expression, she is gently glowing in a way that makes Dorrie want to close every last bit if distance between their bodies. This. This is what it’s supposed to be like. Kerry stands there, shining like something so beautiful that Dorrie doesn’t have any words to describe it, confessing that she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Dorrie either and Dorrie can feel her muscles melting as Kerry says all the things she’s been hoping to hear, that their night meant as much to her as it did to Dorrie, that this isn’t a one off or a mistake. She’s about to say more, maybe about to explain, Dorrie can feel it, when the door opens and one of Kerry’s friends walks through. Dorrie can feel herself sink a little lower into the floor, as if gravity suddenly increased as Kerry’s other face, the cruel one, the false mask, takes control of her expression. 

Her eyes instantly snap away from Dorrie as she leaves the room without a single look over her shoulder or any reference to the fact that they were making out less than ten seconds ago and the worst part is Dorrie can’t even bring herself to be surprised this time. Still, the butterflies remain (they are not easily discouraged and that gives Dorrie hope) and even when Kerry is not-Kerry, Dorrie can’t stop herself from smiling, even if it’s to an empty room. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

So . . . maybe this isn’t a lost cause? Kerry definitely didn’t seem to hate her, and maybe this is just her way of apologizing, after being weird or something, and if it wasn’t clear already, _Dorrie really, really likes her_. She’s in the kitchen, pacing and having a little bit of a breakdown because this is _all so weird_ but she also can’t stop smiling because _Kerry kissed her again, Kerry remembers her_ , and the energy buzzing in her fingertips turns out to be great for making waffle sculptures. 

If there’s one thing she learned about Kerry it’s that Harry Potter is extremely important to her, like give-away-my-firstborn-for-a-chance-to-go-to-Hogwarts important, so maybe this incredibly silly inside joke is the perfect thing to start their next conversation. It looks good, as good as anyone can except a waffle-snitch to be (the emblem took at LEAST ten separate minutes) and Dorrie sets her offering in front of the girls with pride. (here! here is my heart!!) She doesn’t like to remember what happens after. It happens in flashes, a girl dismissing it, thinking she made a mistake, her explaining -badly, defending Harry Potter which she didn’t think she’s have to do in front of Kerry’s friends, Kerry meeting her eyes for less than a second, then flickering away, landing everywhere but Dorrie, somehow closing in on herself even more. She mutters something about the party and leaves, trying to make it seem like she’s not actively fleeing. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Addie comes storming into WT, Dorrie’s stomach drops at least five-hundred feet, or maybe just down into her toes. (right now all she wants to do is go sit in a dark corner for five hours and try to figure out how she feels) Addie has a familiar, stubborn, closed look on her face that means she’s either going to win an argument or die trying and if that particular blend of sweet fury and abandonment issues were aimed at her Dorrie would already be running, but Jeb doesn’t react and maybe he’s just brave, but she realizes it’s more likely that he just never cared to learn very much about Addie. 

(honestly, she’s been hoping they’ll break up for weeks but in a more self-righteous I-deserve-more-than-you-and-also-my-best-friend-is-still-kinda-mad-at-you-for-intetioanlly-tripping-her-in-fifth-grade-so-there way, but) She looks mad, but right underneath is a thinly veiled river of fear that makes Dorrie’s heart break a little – because Addie’s a pain, but so is she sometimes and best friends are supposed to put up with/love each other no matter what, that’s the deal, and they do a pretty good job at it all things considered. 

Dorrie tries not to remember what happens next, tries to watch through the mental equivalent of peeking through her fingers, but the alternative is looking the other way towards the dance team, where Kerry is clearly looking anywhere but at Dorrie with a vacant expression and the teammates that surround her, reminding Dorrie that they are a pack over all else. Addie gets more and more upset, and when she finally dumps the milkshake Dorrie is only slightly surprised, because Addie might be clingy, but loyal is actually a better term, and crossing her is not really a decision people make twice. She wants to do something, wants to cheer or jump across the counter to support her friend, to say that she’s proud of her, but Addie storms out the doors looking lost and confused, but way less angry, so all Dorrie can do is follow before she turns into a blizzard or something and disappears. 

Outside the sun is blinding, glinting off all the fresh snow from last night, and Addie looks like she might cry. Dorrie wants to hug her, wants to wrap her up in safety and wanted-ness, but she also never wants this kind of thing to happen again, so before the more logical part of her brain can pump the brakes, she’s blurting out words because she is also _frustrated_ and Addie can be _infuriating_ and she’s having a _bad terrible confusing day_ too and Dorrie wants HER best friend to let her freak out, instead of it being the other way around. It comes out in a tumble, how she feels unappreciated, how she understands that Addie has issues, but she’s the only one who’s here and helping her, pleading to break this pattern because she knows grasping for affection like this is going to destroy her favorite person and she can’t just stand by and watch that happen. 

She hears something in her words echo, _stop caring about the people who don’t care about you_ , and wonders in the back of her mind if that’s maybe about her life too, but Addie stomps off into the snow with fury still burning in her eyes and when Dorrie turns to go back inside she glimpses Kerry’s face in the window, turned to watch her, facing out from the other dance girls who are all still watching Madison try to de-gloopify herself, (does this make her feel better or worse, Kerry is watching her, but Kerry has been so confusing, and Dorrie didn’t want an audience for this) so the logical processing part of her brain decides, finally, to shut down because this is all way too much. Crying right now would kind of suck, so instead she asks Keon to tell her what happened when his parents came home and lets his outpouring of words, the embarrassment that doesn’t belong to her for once slow the too rapid thumping of her heart. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Things aren’t going well. Keon’s “party” is currently a few lukewarm groups of people who don’t super want to be here and music that’s good, but way too quiet. She’s worried about Addie, a person who usually doesn’t go five minutes without answering a text, but even while she’s mad, Dorrie recognizes that Addie is resourceful when she wants to be and could probably scale Mount Everest safely if she decided to, so their tiny town, even in the snow, shouldn’t present too much of an issue. 

Keon promises beer coming, over and over, and Dorrie doesn’t drink that much or that often, but after the day she’s had any kind of magical forgetting juice starts to sound pretty good. Keon and Billy emerge from the supply closet, whispering about something and when they take a huge pile of holiday-ish craft supplies, Dorrie doesn’t even flinch. Instead, because this is the best distraction she’s been offered yet, she helps them glue, twist, and tie everything together, until the normally-beige interior of WT is covered in surprisingly festive decorations, and the space feels a little more full. 

Snow has started falling outside again, the kind of snow that’s accompanied by a gentle poetic waltz in movies and Dorrie walks the perimeter of the room, double checking their decorations, but mostly looking at the softly drifting snow. It’s Christmas Eve. There is magic in the air, of some kind, even if all the magic does is make this party actually fun. The door bangs open, startling her out of the window-gazing-daze and she turns, on the off change that it’s an actual customer, but instead it’s Addie. Addie, flushed from the cold, but completely alive and fine, a realization that lets Dorrie release a breathe she didn’t know she was holding. She looks at Jeb for a millisecond, and Dorrie’s hopes sink, but then she shakes herself and looks at Dorrie with an entirely earnest apologetic face. She’s holding a pig. _The pig_. She smiles, and this time Dorrie really might cry. 

She can’t imagine a better present. (her friend back, although the pig is pretty great too) and everything is ok. They apologize, she explains, not with any specifics, but Addie knows her well enough to understand and in between the I-was-upsets and this-day-has-been-so-WEIRD and you-might-been-rights and I’m-sorrys the world feels like it’s been tipped back onto the correct axis. Addie, being Addie, understands the situation instantly and with all the command she can mister (which is significant, something Addie is a little scary) she delivers the greatest pep talk of all time. Dorrie takes a breath, the first real one she’s taken all day, and even when a cold pig nose pokes her elbow when they hug, this feels perfect. 

Kerry turns around, glancing at them as the reunited-best-friends laugh at the pig and Dorrie can feel her eyes, but for once she doesn’t care. (or she does, of course she does, because Kerry is _amazing_ and all Dorrie really wants to do is kiss her again, but today has been decidedly not-amazing and the reminder that her life is so much more than Kerry’s reactions feels good, feels safe.) Addie smiles, the pig snuffles, and maybe this is the magic Dorrie was waiting for this whole time. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

In a sudden stroke of bravery, the kind you don’t ever remember or think about again, the kind that feels like someone else has taken over your body to wreak as much havoc as possible, Dorrie can feel herself moving, walking through a mass of moving bodies, dodging drinks, and ending up in front of Kerry. The smell of “high school party” is strong and she can’t sense any cinnamon. Addie’s words ring in her ears and, before either of them can walk away, she says the things that she’s been telling Addie to say for weeks. 

(but hopefully this turns out a little bit better.) She’s honest really, for the first time in a while, and brave, the kind of thing that says you-can-walk-away-but-I-really-really-hope-you-don’t-because-I-think-this-could-be-great. She walks away before Kerry can say anything in response, biting back nausea and trying to stop her knees from collapsing. She doesn’t feel _good_ but the room is clearer than it’s been in a while.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After that, the night is fine. Good, even! It’s dark outside, but in a way that makes WT feel warm and cozy, the decorations are glinting softly, almost at the same rhythm that the snow falls, the music is well picked (Keon really does know what he’s doing), and people keep pouring in – a miracle has taken place, for this single night, Waffle Town is _the place to be_. Dorrie sees the debate team (Jeb and Madison dancing which makes Addie’s face fall for exactly 0.3 seconds before she resolutely turns away from them), Angie and Tobin _were_ here, they dropped off the keg with a guy that Dorrie recognizes from history last year, (their vibe is a little off, like something is about to happen, but maybe they’re finally going to give up the charade that they aren’t completely in love with each other, less likely things have happened tonight!), Keon is having a _great time_ , Dorrie can help but smile when she sees his grand plan working out, even Julia, who doesn’t come out to many things since her mom got sick, who seems like the world might be slowly swallowing her, is here, smiling and looking decidedly un-swallowed. 

People are having fun, _everyone is having fun_ (except maybe for Tobin who wandered by looking lost a few minutes ago) which is basically impossible at high school parties, and Dorrie lets herself get lost in it, in the happy chatter and boom of WT’s one-night-only majesty. Addie’s here, looking happier than she has in months, clutching a PIG, and tonight isn’t anything like what she imagined, but for the first time that feels like a gift. (just in time for Christmas.) 

As the night progresses the party gets better, Keon gets prouder, Billy only has to clean up eight different glass spills, and the pig (name = TBA, they have too many good options) only gets away twice. After he attempts some kind of twisting nosedive out of Addie’s arms and onto a nearby table (Dorrie barely catching him), they take the tiny man outside, hoping that a change of scenery might calm him down a little. 

It works pretty well, he snuggles closer to the warmth of their jackets and closes his eyes. They stand like that for a while, brushing snow out off their hair and taking pig selfies, listening to the party inside (and maybe hearing something that sounds like a genuine confession of love from the roof). Eventually, the door opens, a quieter sound as someone comes out than when new arrivals come in, and the soft crunch of sneakers on snow, combined with a tug in Dorrie’s chest, makes her turn around. There, backlit by the WT windows and the sweaty teenagers inside, stands Kerry. The air turns sharper all of a sudden, the thump of the music fades to the gentlest of roars, snow crashes around them, and for a second it feels just like that night again, like they’re the only two people on the planet, but not in an apocalyptic way, more like life froze for everyone else, just for a few hours, so they can dance across empty streets together. 

Except, unlike every other time, now they aren’t alone. Dorrie isn’t a lone figure facing the tidal wave that is Kerry, now she has a very cool potbellied pig and even cooler best friend at her side. Kerry looks different, but more familiar than she’s seemed in a while. Her face is a cross between the small, closed off girl who’s been sitting at a WT booth all afternoon and the dancing snowflake who’s been drifting across her dreams for a few weeks. She looks scared but so is Dorrie, so at least they match.

Addie looks at her, waiting for the signal to stay or leave, and Dorrie knows that this conversation probably won’t make anything better, but maybe Kerry deserves the benefit of the doubt one last time. Dorrie feels stronger than she has for a few weeks, since Kerry arrived and disappeared, like her feet are on steady ground. It’s a good feeling. Addie turns to head back inside, making sure to catch Dorrie’s eye with a give-me-a-sign-I’ll-be-back-out-in-two-seconds-you-aren’t-alone look first and then it’s really just them, their uneven breaths puffing out into the frozen air. Kerry walks closer, carefully, like you approach a raccoon in a trashcan, and suddenly all Dorrie wants to do is pull her into a hug, because Kerry looks like she’s about to cry, like her world is hovering on the edge of a precipice, and Dorrie wants to rescue her and tell her that everything is going to be ok. 

When she aploogzes, Dorrie can feel herself melt a little more, because she _wasn’t making any of the weirdness up_ , and because Kerry looks so genuinely sorry. Dorrie can see her getting tenser and tenser (on “best night of my life” she melts a little more) and then when Kerry _finally_ spits it out, she almost wants to laugh. It all makes sense. Like, yeah, lying about stuff is shitty, but Dorrie understands, intimately, she’s felt the panic that’s written all across Kerry’s face, and this last bit of anger leaves her body. (today, it turns out, is less about fighting and more about forgiveness.) 

They talk. They talk, and it’s ok, and it feels a little like it did that night, and a little like something new that’s even better and the way everything feels fine, good, amazing even, all because Kerry is standing near her feels like a miracle. Today kinda sucked, but it sucked for legitimate reasons, and standing in the snow with the nicest, prettiest girl in the world seems totally worth it. Dorrie can see the same kind of wonder shining in Kerry’s eyes, breaking through the remains of her icy fear. (because that’s all any of it was: fear. Fear, and wanting to belong and wanting to kiss pretty girls and a million other things that Dorrie understands, things that she want to help Kerry process.) _Like, really, really badly._

They laugh, because today was _really, really bad_ and _crazy scary_ but they’re still here. They’re both alive, both shivering a little, and if they can keep talking about stuff, really talking, like this, then things might totally be ok. And Dorrie lets Kerry leave, because she doesn’t want to push the other girl into anything, doesn’t want to shatter this beautiful thing stretching between them, but when Kerry starts talking, Dorrie feels brave too, and when she steps forwards Dorrie mirrors her, and when their lips meet, gently, it feels better than the frustration in the bathroom or hurriedness at the door. 

It feels like magic. Kerry is relaxed, breathing, in a way she hasn’t been before, the cinnamon is back, and whatever is between them just feels safe. Safe and good and like it stretches forward into the future, farther than they can see. The dance team waves and cheers from inside, Dorrie peeks over and sees that Kerry is beaming, a freefalling snowflake again, with all panic and restraint gone. For now, at least, there are very few secrets. She only realizes that in a small part of her brain though, because everything else is focused on Kerry who is _right there_ and _going to stay there_ and Dorrie is, simply enough, happy. (also, she’d like to kiss Kerry again and that possibility feels fairly possible.) 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After that, after everything, they dance. After all, this is a party. Kerry is just as much fun to dance with as Dorrie imagined, and her friends are nice (turns out, they were a little freaked out by Kerry’s distant behavior too) and crushed among a sea of bouncing bodies, the night before Christmas, Addie spinning with the pig, Keon DJing like a king, and Kerry’s hair flying around her head, Dorrie can’t imagine a better place to be.


End file.
